Voicemail
by aviators-and-high-heels
Summary: When Maura gets a voicemail from Jane, it might reveal something that neither she, nor Jane, wanted to be heard. Oneshot.


_**A/N: Holy crap, it has been a long time since I've written anything narrative, much less for this fandom! I still haven't watched anything past season three, and don't really plan to. I want to write more for these two, because I still love their dynamic in all its forms, but anything that does so will be pre-season 4 canon, or completely AU. Anyway, enjoy. Feedback is appreciated, because I'm rustier than a civil war cavalry dagger over here.**_

It was 3:49 on Saturday morning when Maura Isles received a phone call that went straight to voicemail as she slept. For a change, at least as far as recent weeks went, she had spent Friday night alone; Jane was out with Frankie and Tommy at a sports bar, watching some big important game or other. The plan had originally been to do so at Maura's, but when several of Frankie's friends from high school wanted to make a night of it and join them, Jane had deemed it necessary to spare Maura from the chaos, and move the night to a public locale.

A sleepy smile crept onto Maura's face when she saw she had a voicemail from Jane when she awoke at her usual hour on Saturday morning, prior to physically getting out of bed, but was a little shocked when she noticed the length of it; twenty-three minutes of audio were apparently waiting for her, but with no accompanying missed calls or messages. Equal parts curious and amused, Maura decided to listen to the first few seconds, at least, before getting up. She wasn't about to admit it, but having Jane's voice be the first thing she heard on any given day was always a positive as far as she was concerned. Without bothering to put earbuds in, she tapped the play icon, a little smirk on her lips as she wondered what Jane could have possibly talked to her about, unanswered, for close to a half hour. The detective's raspy voice, sounding a little lower than usual -and admittedly sending a shiver down Maura's spine- rang through, seeming a little distant, but still loud.

"—it Tommy, give it! I'm not, get off, I'm not going to call her! It's four in the fucking morning!"

"I'm dialing it! I'm dialing, Jane, I swear to god! She needs to hear this from you!" Tommy's voice, loud and slurred, blared through the tinny speaker, causing Maura to wince slightly at the volume. His cajoling was cut short however by several moments of scuffling and clunking, before finally, the background noise of who Maura assumed was Frankie's old friends, was muffled.

"God, you're such an asshole. How are we even related?" Jane's voice, gruff and grumpy, came through again. It was somewhat stifled, but still very audible, and Maura had to figure that the phone had been reclaimed, and stuffed in her breast pocket. Laughter followed the rhetorical question, and Tommy -or was it Frankie? the phone's new location made it a little harder to say- spoke unintelligibly, causing Jane to huff loudly.

"Look, forget it, okay? Things are…they're fine the way they are," Jane sounded more than a little put out, but by what, Maura couldn't be sure; all she knew is that Jane sounded somewhat intoxicated, judging by the slight slur of her words. It wasn't nearly so bad as the thick drawl that Tommy seemed to possess, bit it was evident all the same "I'm not gonna tell Maura…anything."

"What? Janie," ah, Frankie, definitely. Maura could be sure; his proximity was closer to Jane's side than Tommy's had been, and he sounded marginally less intoxicated "You gotta tell her. Ya can't keep…going on like this. I mean, you like Maura, right?"

Maura leaned forward slightly, intrigued now. She almost felt like she was intruding, like she shouldn't be listening, but her curiosity, unscientific though it was for a change, was piqued.

"No."

The word came out blunt, but Maura felt it pierce her chest like a dagger sharp enough to slice a stone. Without hesitating, she jammed her thumb quickly on the stop icon, closing the voicemail. A million emotions rushed over her at once, freezing her up, leaving her sitting there, blankets around her waist, phone in front of her, the screen blank, speakers silent. Even so, the exchange rang through the room like the echo of a gunshot.

"— _you like Maura, right?"_

" _No."_

Maura couldn't believe it. How could it be true? Surely she had to be mistaken. Misinterpreting. How could it be that Jane Rizzoli, by all accounts the absolute light of her damn life, didn't even like her? She had thought they were best friends. The absolute best of friends, but now this? Maura slowly picked up her phone, throat tight, thumb hovering. The answers were likely contained in the other twenty-one and a half minutes, but she couldn't bear to know. Not yet. Just the thought of Jane, who she cared for more than anything, not even _liking_ her was too much to bear. To hear a breakdown of the reasons why would hurt too much, and Maura couldn't stand the thought of feeling that hurt from the one person she had secretly entrusted her soul to, and who she had believed would protect and care for her always. Briefly, Maura attempted to console herself with the notion that this was a recent development, caused by a mistake that she could fix once she had learned it, but the moment passed on realizing that either Jane would have to be confronted, or she'd have to listen in on the voicemail. Somehow, she wasn't sure if a polite lie from Jane, or a naked truth from her faceless voice was worse. Not even her usual scientific curiosity could seek answers this time; for once, Doctor Maura Isles found her head completely overtaken by a bruised and aching heart.

It was a bitter and dire blessing that Maura's path seldom crossed with Jane's for the next five days. A single autopsy for a case that wasn't solved until Thursday, and politely declined lunch invitations were all it took to keep Jane's attention away from Maura, and vice versa. Maura thought perhaps she was doing a good job of weaning herself off, and without being too obvious about it at that, until a knock on her office door on Thursday afternoon. Despite her better judgment, she felt momentarily hopeful, until the voice of Frankie Rizzoli was the one that rang through the polished wood.

"Maura? You there? It's Frankie."

"Come in," Maura offered, unceremonious, her disappointment scarcely masked as Frankie pushed the door open, smiling a little awkwardly as he doffed the hat of his uniform "Take a seat."

"Thanks," Frankie eased himself onto one of the ornate wooden chairs opposite Maura's desk, still twirling his hat before deciding, in true Rizzoli fashion, to skip right to the point "Why have you been avoiding Janie?"

'I—" Maura paused, thinking how to phrase this honestly "It's been very busy, what with the Marshall case. I haven't…had a lot of free time." While all true, she habitually scratched at the side of her neck, despite there being no hives.

"Maura."

"Did Jane send you down here to ask?" Maura inquired, trying to shake the brief warmth she felt when she momentarily met Frankie's eyes, only to see Jane's eyes looking back instead, and averted her gaze before continuing "Because really, if—"

"No," Frankie held up a hand, slowing Maura to a stop mid-sentence "No, she didn't. I came down here myself. I'd…noticed that you guys have barely been together — not because of the case," he quickly interjected, when Maura had opened her mouth, quite obviously to repeat her previous assertions "Even when it's crazier than Thanksgiving at our place around here, the two of you still manage lunch together, or at least coffee. Something. What gives? Is this why we did Friday night at the Flagon instead of at your place? You guys have a fight or somethin'?"

"No, we didn't…we didn't fight," Maura sighed, trying to wave her hand dismissively, but in a way that just came across as listless, almost dejected "It was…I can't say."

"Maura, c'mon," Frankie sighed, tone a little imploring as he slumped back in the chair, momentarily startled when it creaked beneath him "We're family." At that, Maura's resolve to keep this strictly to herself weakened somewhat, under the notion that the Rizzolis, thanks to Jane, were her family now, too. After a long silence, during which Frankie only leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, watching Maura closely, she finally pulled out her phone. With a few taps, the voicemail started playing, the blonde keeping her eyes pointedly affixed elsewhere until the last exchange she had heard on Saturday morning, at which point she stopped the playback again.

"— _you like Maura, right?"_

" _No."_

It was even harder to hear than it had been the first time, and Maura swallowed thickly after stopping it from going any further. She hadn't listened to it since the morning she'd received it, and wasn't prepared for how much it would still pain her, five days later. It was with some hurt and indignation that Maura finally looked up at Frankie again, only to find him smiling.

"Tommy's an ass," he said simply, as though it was some kind of explanation, which Maura clearly didn't understand "But I have a feeling he just did Jane a favor. Big time," he got to his feet, putting on his hat "I gotta get going, but uh…do me a favor?"

Maura could only nod, still looking a little wounded, her big, hazel eyes trying to get a read on Frankie as he spoke on his way to the door.

"Listen to the rest of that, trust me."

With only that tidbit imparted, he hurriedly ducked out, leaving Maura only a moment to consider calling after him and asking for more insight. But that, it seemed, was only going to be contained in the one thing that had started all this. The voicemail.

It wasn't until later that night that Maura finally summoned the courage to listen beyond what she'd already heard, clutching a glass of wine as she sat at the kitchen counter, phone sitting primly in the middle of it, as though she were presenting it as a piece of evidence. She had no idea what Frankie had meant by what he said that day, and he'd been unreachable the rest of the afternoon for any questioning. Nothing left to do now, Maura supposed, but rip the band-aid off and hear the no doubt awful things that Jane Rizzoli had to say about her.

* * *

Jane was not having a good week.

A hangover on Saturday, called to a crime scene at a ridiculous hour on Sunday, then grinding through one of her tougher cases in recent memory all the way through until Thursday afternoon. To top it all off, it was now lunch on Friday, and she had barely seen Maura since they had arrived only moments apart to the crime scene at the Bay Village on Sunday morning. She had been quiet, avoidant, and was apparently too busy to meet Jane for lunch, outright not answering two of Jane's invitations for such until well after her time for lunch was over. She had considered going down to the morgue to ask Maura what was up, but each time she planned on it, something seemed to get in the way. The first time, it had been Korsak finding an unexpected witness. The second was one of the suspects being pulled in. The third, an ever-persistent Rondo eyeing her up in between pieces of just enough barely-useful information to keep himself from being shooed away. So it had kept happening, until Friday found Jane sitting in the bullpen by herself, ruefully eating a fluffernutter sandwich, which had all fluff, and no peanut butter. A fact her mother had apologized for only briefly when dumping the paper bag on Jane's desk, and hurrying off again to return to the cafe.

It was, Jane decided, finally enough. Dropping the last uneaten triangle back in the bag, she shoved it in her desk, and stood, yanking her jacket from the back of her chair as she headed for the elevators. She had just pushed the button for the morgue, adjusting her collar in one of the elevators as the doors slid shut, when a well-manicured hand slipped through the closing gap, causing the doors to grate open again on detecting it.

"Maura! Hey, uh, I was just…coming down to…see…you," Jane trailed off, trying to interpret the expression on her friend's face, never having seen it before. It was intense, fiery, but not angry, and quite frankly, it left even the nigh unshakeable Jane Rizzoli the slightest bit intimidated, despite the doctor's smaller frame. Maura said nothing as she stepped into the elevator, pressing the button to close the doors. It wasn't until a slight lurch indicated that they were finally moving that she spoke.

"Jane, we're friends, aren't we?" the question was innocent enough, Maura's tone deceptively even, but Jane felt that there was more to it than met the eye.

"Sure," she responded carefully "Of course we are. Best friends."

"Is that all?" the three words pierced the momentary silence, dropping like a lead weight onto Jane, who couldn't help but hesitate, shifting her feet with a nervous grin on her angular features as she merely offered "Uh, lifelong…best friends forever?"

Maura pursed her lips, seeming unsure what to do. How to act. Despite several false leads on the case they'd been working, this was definitely the most confusing thing Jane had seen all week; Maura could sometimes get flustered, yes. Rambly, goofy, a little caught up in herself or her work, but Jane had never seen her mentally chewing on something quite this hard, or seem so unsure of herself. So far away from her generally put-together persona. At last, she turned to Jane, having steeled herself with an expression that was largely undecipherable.

"You called me on Friday night."

"What? No, I…" Jane trailed off again, flashes coming to mind of Tommy waving her phone around with a grin, finger hovering over the "call" button beneath one of Jane's favorite photos of Maura, making a goofy expression at her across the marble counter top in her kitchen after a few too many cocktails at the Robber, then a couple of beers between them at home. It always made Jane smile, which was precisely why she'd made it Maura's contact picture "…didn't. Shit. Did I?"

Maura simply gave her a look, striding out of the elevator when its doors opened down the hall from the morgue. Jane had no idea what to say, trying desperately to remember some of what she'd been talking about after reclaiming her phone from Tommy, but knew she'd be remiss to not follow Maura's lead, regardless of the fact that she still couldn't quite decipher the blonde's mood.

 _Shit, what did I_ say?

Maura didn't say another word, merely leading the way to her office and standing expectantly by the open door as Jane, dark brows knitted, walked inside, finally deciding to break the silence.

"Maura, listen, I don't know what I said," it was partially a lie; Jane had a pretty good idea what she'd probably said, she simply didn't know what Maura had _heard_ , and that was quite the distinction "But I was pretty drunk, and—"

Jane was promptly cut off twice; first, by Maura practically slamming the door to the office behind them, making her flinch. Then, when Jane attempted to start her sentence again, by the blonde half stomping over to her in her cobalt blue heels, grabbing a fistful of Jane's lapels in each hand, and yanking her into a bruising kiss. Jane stumbled back, but didn't break the embrace, instead matching Maura's intensity with a soft and husky moan that she had certainly had no intention of letting pass from her own lips to Maura's when they'd first made contact. The sound only spurred the blonde on, though, loosening the grip of one hand from the now wrinkled charcoal fabric it had been grasping, and moving instead to the back of Jane's neck, the radiant heat of her palm seeming white hot against olive skin, fingertips winding into dark curls. Jane couldn't help but smirk slightly into the kiss as Maura's curvaceous frame pushed up against scarred muscle with heightened desperation.

"Well, Dr. Isles…" Jane muttered, driving Maura back until the back of her thighs hit the edge of her desk, causing her to gasp, first at that, then at the sensation of Jane pressing several searing kisses to the curve of her neck "You definitely need to tell me what I said on the phone to get this kind of reaction so I can say it over and over again…"

"No need," Maura intoned breathily "I still have the voicemail you left…"

" _I'm not gonna tell Maura…anything."_

" _What? Janie, you gotta tell her. Ya can't keep…going on like this. I mean, you like Maura, right?"_

" _No."_

" _What? Whaddaya mean "no"? I thought you were—"_

" _Best friends? Yeah, but no, I don't like her, Frankie," a long pause "I'm…God help me, I'm crazy about her. I'm out of my mind in love with that woman, and I haven't the slightest clue how to tell her. I've kind of only just been able to admit it to myself". "How's this? "Hey Maura, I'm in love with you, let's fuck"."_

" _Tommy, shut yer ass. C'mon Jane, she definitely feels the same way. You know that, right?"_

" _Are you insane? Are you a crazy person? Did ma's genes finally win out and now you're as nuts as she is? Maura is not into me that way. She's unbelievably out of my league! If she's the Red Sox, I'm the…goddamn peewee baseball team over at Paul Revere elementary. She's…God, Frankie, she brings back the belief I had in a higher power, because she's a goddess. Not just in body, but in spirit and mind, y'know? She's the smartest, sweetest, kindest, funniest, goofiest, most generous, dorky, caring, warm person I have ever,_ ever _met, and I consider myself blessed that she even looks at a…scruffy, blue-collar Boston cop like me, and doesn't just keep walkin'. She's got flaws, sure, but I still think she's perfect, head to toe, in and out…but there's no way that she's ever going to hear that from me, or from anyone, got it? The last thing I need is to lose the friendship, because as long as I have at least that? As long as I can call Maura Isles my friend? I'm the luckiest woman in Boston. Shit, in the world."_


End file.
